Page 24 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘That’s what we all want.’ Henry raised his voice slightly. ‘It’s what we’re all working towards.’

‘If that’s the case, why haven’t you found anyone yet? What are you actually doing?’

Henry took a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to remain calm. There was nothing he could say without repeating himself.

Marsh acknowledged the silence and filled it. ‘I’ve been speaking to the Chief Constable. He wants to bring in a specialised team from the Met to review the case.’

‘What?’ Henry almost exploded.

Marsh held up his hands to calm him down. ‘I’ve managed to dissuade him, but he’s giving you a week, Henry. If clear progress hasn’t been made by the eighth of November, we’re going to have a team of sodding polytechnic graduates crawling all over the station.’

‘Over my dead body.’

‘If you feel that strongly, do something about it. You’ve got one week.’

Henry remained seated, nonplussed, as he thought about what to do next.

‘Well, go on, piss off. You won’t find Alice’s killer in here,’ Marsh growled.

Henry stood up. Inside, he was raging. He had done nothing wrong. The simple fact of the matter was that the killer was proving to be elusive. He and his team had played things by the book. It was obviously time for the famous Henry Bishop tactics to come into play.

ChapterEleven

Geoff and Judith Patterson had hardly slept. Their daughter was being buried in the morning. It was the day they were dreading and the delay in releasing her body had been agony for the couple. They both knew, once the funeral was over, they could begin to find a way out of this darkness, a way to come to terms with their grief and focus on the future, on remembering Alice as the sweet, happy, smiling girl she was, and not the nightmare in which she was stolen from them.

‘Are you awake?’ Judith asked. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark outside, but the sound of the milk float driving down the road and the noise of the newspaper landing on the mat told her it was morning.

Geoff grunted a reply. ‘I think I’ve seen every hour.’

‘I’m dreading this,’ Judith said quietly, sniffling back the tears.

Geoff rolled over, wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close, her head resting on his warm chest.

‘I’m here for you, Jude. I’m not going to let you out of my sight at all today. I’ll be right beside you, holding your hand.’

‘Today shouldn’t be happening at all, though, should it?’

‘No. It shouldn’t. But it is. We have to face that reality. We just need to get through today. I promise, it won’t seem as dark tomorrow, and each day after that will get a little bit lighter.’

‘I wish I could believe that.’

Geoff held onto her tighter. ‘I believe it enough for the both of us.’

Judith snuggled further into Geoff and pulled his arms tighter around her. ‘I wish we could stay here all day and not have to get up.’

Pauline Winstanley had tried to dissuade her son from attending Alice’s funeral. He’d told her all about the whip-round they’d had in the library for a bouquet of flowers, and the card they’d all signed that Mrs Wilkinson had delivered, but for the past three weeks, Pauline had stated, categorically, that he should not go to the funeral. She tried to protect him by telling him it would be a very upsetting day and that he might struggle to cope with all the raw emotion on display, but he was adamant. He liked Alice. A lot. He wanted to say goodbye.

Standing in the living room in front of the mirror, Anthony wore an ill-fitting black suit and white shirt that Pauline had pressed the night before. She wasn’t planning on going herself, but Leo had called yesterday asking if they wanted a lift to the church. It seemed like the whole of Whitby would be attending. As Anthony struggled to tie his tie, Pauline ran an iron quickly over her only black dress.

‘Mum, is this right?’ he asked, looking at her.

‘No, sweetheart, it’s not. Give me a few minutes and I’ll see to it for you.’

‘Do these trousers look daft?’

‘No. They’re fine.’

‘You haven’t even looked.’